


An Extra Twenty Minutes

by singerofsimplesongs



Series: Scenes from Season Nine [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8x23 coda, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singerofsimplesongs/pseuds/singerofsimplesongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel wanders the streets for three days before he has found the amount of change he deems sufficient to use a pay phone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Extra Twenty Minutes

Castiel wanders the streets for three days before he has found the amount of change he deems sufficient to use a pay phone. In his wanderings he has gathered that he is somewhere in Kansas, but he is unable to determine how close he is to Lebanon. His stomach hurts and he figures he should probably get something to eat, but the litany of a single name, _Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean Dean_ , prioritizes the change in his pocket. His brothers and sisters fell from the sky and it’s his fault and he needs _Dean_.

So when he dials a familiar number and is met with a female voice telling him the number is out of service, his head thumps back against the plastic wall of the phone booth. An uncomfortable feeling swells from his stomach and claws at his chest and though there is enough change in his pocket to find other numbers, there is not enough air in his lungs. Two more tries and he gets another disconnected number and a voicemail.

Based on the octave of the voice, he guesses that this voicemail was recorded pre-Purgatory and he has no way of knowing when Dean will check it. He leaves one anyway. By the fourth number, his knuckles are white as he grips the phone, his knees feel like they cannot hold him anymore, and what if he can’t reach Dean? Where will he go?

The fourth number does not go through and he slides down against the sticky plastic as Sam’s voice tells him to leave a message. Another flare of panic seizes him as Naomi’s words remind him that Sam may not be alive. He has no way of knowing if Dean made it to his brother in time. He leaves another message with Sam, and fishes a few more coins out of his pocket. His stomach rolls when he realizes he only has enough for one more call. His human memory is not nearly as good as his angel memory and even his shaking fingers seem to doubt that this number belongs to the Winchesters.

It doesn’t. The voice that answers is neither Sam nor Dean and Castiel feels like he’s being torn apart. He realizes that this is panic and this is fear and these human emotions are _horrible_.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His eyes are burning like they were only a few nights ago and he suddenly _hates_ crying.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I think I have the wrong number.”

As he shifts to place the phone back in its cradle, the voice calls, “wait!”

“Is this Castiel?” the man asks, and Castiel slides the rest of the way to the floor in relief. The voice is familiar but he can’t place it. He hears scuffling on the other end and possibly a chair scraping against tile. There is unintelligible mumbling and then Castiel hears the best sound he’s heard in three days. 

“Damn it Kevin, give me the phone!”

“Dean?” he says, and Kevin seems to take this as confirmation that it is indeed Castiel, and the phone switches hands.

“Cas!” Dean almost shouts, and Castiel has never heard Dean sound so happy in all the years he has known the man.

“Hello Dean,” he replies and he hiccups a little over the words. Human emotions, he thinks, are so strange in how fast they can change. Suddenly he can breathe again, and the terrible clawing sensation is slowly fading against the warmth that accompanies Dean’s voice.

“I’ve never been happier to hear your voice, man,” and Dean’s own relief surges through the phone and Castiel’s panic is gone. “We all thought you might be dead.”

“Dean,” he breathes. “Can I stay with you? In the bunker? It’s my only home now.”

The weight of that statement almost calls the panic back and Castiel almost starts crying. He starts feeling like he is running out of air again and his breaths get quicker and deeper. Dean must hear the change in his breathing because his voice shifts to that of a parent comforting a child.

“Cas. Castiel. Breathe.”

The use of his full name grounds him and he waits for Dean to continue.

“You tell me where you are and I will be there before you know it. You can explain everything on our way back okay? Right now let’s just focus on bringing you home. Sammy and Kev can put the finishing touches on your room.”

A tiny smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he rattles off his surroundings and nearby street names. As he finishes, he hears the clicking of keys and a low chuckle.

“Dude, you’re only like an hour away from here. You wait right there, and I’ll be there in less than forty.”

“But you said an hour.”

“I’ll drive fast.”

Castiel hears the door of the Impala squeak open and slam shut. The engine revs to life and now Castiel is smiling.

“Drive safely,” he says. “I will survive an extra twenty minutes.”

“I’ll see you soon Cas.”

“Goodbye Dean.” 

Dean arrives, as promised, almost forty minutes later. He scrambles out of the Impala and leaves the door hanging open as he pulls Castiel into his arms. Castiel returns the hug, and for the first time since he fell, he feels like things might be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I just really need season nine.


End file.
